Three
A pathway of paper lanterns leads to the outdoor patio of the Gardens, where white cloth–covered round tables are set up on a raised platform. The surrounding oak trees are wrapped in string lights and, as if that wasn’t magical enough, Edison lamps trail down from the highest branches. I reach out and touch one of the bulbs as I make my way up the path, the glass warm in my palm. The venue is like something straight out of my Pinterest wedding board, which only makes this whole ordeal so much worse.
I’m thirty minutes late on purpose, and I plan to leave at least thirty minutes early as well. As much as I value Ben’s friendship, there’s no way I can stand to be here for the entire party. The tables are mostly filled, large gatherings of people making idle chitchat while sipping from champagne flutes. The breeze lifts my carefully styled hair, blowing it back in my face. I unstick pieces of hair from my lip gloss and smooth the strands behind my ears. At least my lavender dress is fitted, so I don’t have to worry about pulling a Marilyn Monroe in front of Alice’s grandparents. Talk about awkward.
I sit at a table surrounded by Alice’s sorority sisters from college, fingers tapping impatiently as I wait for Angela to arrive. Damn her for running late to everything. Christine is talking animatedly to anyone who will listen about her plan to jump Theo’s bones tonight. Nothing I haven’t heard from her before. When Alice and I drifted apart, I drifted toward Angela and she drifted toward Christine. Much like my best friend, Christine is beautiful but in a smug sort of way. Her light brown hair falls in a sleek curtain over her shoulders, no frizz or flyaways in sight, almost the same coloring as her golden skin tone, which is straight from a St. Tropez bottle. Her lips are always painted a bold red, the promise of poison no prey can resist. I’ve seen men and women fall at her feet, and I don’t blame them for a second.
When Christine smiles at me, chills run up and down my back. It’s a knowing sort of smile, much like Alice’s knowing gaze. Piercing. Taunting in the way of a Bachelor villain just before they bounce away to tell the lead you’re here for the wrong reasons. It doesn’t help my case that I’ve worn guilt as a second skin for years. I shudder at what the two of them must think of me. I’m suddenly conscious of all the ways my dress pinches my skin, the zipper that suddenly feels too tight for me to breathe properly. It’s only once Christine returns to her conversation that I’m able to catch my breath.
I’m only half listening to what she’s saying as I twirl the straw in my raspberry mojito before slugging it down in three giant gulps. Then I spot Ben and Alice standing together across the grass. Ben smooths back a stray strand of hair from Alice’s face, and then his hand cups her cheek. She smiles up at him like he’s the only one around them, like they share a secret the rest of us aren’t in on.
There’s a tug in my chest that feels an awful lot like longing. Sometimes I wonder if I’m only fooling myself when I think about how he used to look at me in that same way. How he still does, sometimes, when we’re alone. My stomach is queasy just looking at them. I choke back the taste of vomit, wincing as the sour taste slides down my throat. Then I pick at the ice in my drink for a minute before deciding I’m in desperate need of another. When my phone chimes with three back-to-back messages from Angela, it’s settled.
Don’t hate me, but I can’t make it tonight.
I got a stomach bug from that café.
Stupid, delicious, poisonous quiche.
Yup. Definitely need that drink.
I spot Theo at the open bar, nursing what looks like a Jack and Coke. He leans against a stool, looking out at the crowd of people with his usual, amiable smile. On the surface he almost looks bored, but his leg shakes under the barstool in a nervous gesture. Is he anxious? His face doesn’t give him away, but his hand trembles slightly as he takes a sip from his drink.
I call for the bartender’s attention and order another mojito. Theo’s head turns at the sound of my voice. He nods in greeting, and I return it with a wave. I take a seat next to him once I have my new drink.
“This place is amazing, isn’t it?” I ask. He nods, but when he smiles it looks… off. Angela might think I’m projecting, but I know what that smile feels like on the inside. Empty. “So, how long are you in town for?”
“I’m supposed to leave Monday, but…” He shakes his head. “I don’t know. It’s kinda complicated.”
“Oh,” I say, puzzled. “Aren’t you still with the Cowboys?”
He turns away with a frown and motions the bartender for another drink. It’s answer enough. I leave him at the bar and make the rounds, talking with friends from college and family members of Ben’s I’ve never met before. Without Angela I’m left ambling, hopping from person to person with no real direction. All too soon, I’m faced with the happy couple themselves. Ben’s arm is wrapped around his fiancée’s shoulders, both still laughing at a joke her aunt told them before she left. I stand a few feet from them, eyes assessing the general area (maybe for an escape). But I’m too late when Ben calls out my name.
I step forward to greet them, my voice too high-pitched, but neither of them notices. The party around us is probably too noisy for them to hear properly. Alice is stunning in a gold midi dress with lace and bead detailing on the shoulders. Her sleek black hair is in a half-up, half-down style that looks so much more put together than mine. Ben is equally stunning in an olive-green three-piece suit, smiling ear to ear as his arms envelop me in a warm hug.
“Congratulations,” I say near his ear, my voice breathless for no good reason. His eyes are shining when he pulls away from me, and they go soft as he turns back to Alice. She returns his gaze, a shy, soft smile playing on her lips. My heart aches from how good they look together. From how happy they clearly are.
“Thank you for coming, Marcela.” Alice takes both my hands in hers. “And for picking up Theo yesterday. You’re such a good friend to us.” Her voice is gracious, but nothing she says rings true. We haven’t been good friends since freshman year, but I recognize the nicety for what it is. I give a half shrug, half smile in some sort of oh, it was nothing gesture.
It’s a relief when I’m finally allowed to step away. I force myself not to turn back and look at them on my way to the restroom. It will just make me feel worse. The clock on my phone tells me only thirty minutes have passed, and I have to do a double take. That can’t be right. It’s felt like hours already.
When I reach the restroom, I come to a stop in front of the mirror. My hair is a tangled, windswept mess of black curls. Damn whoever thought an outdoor party in early autumn (read: extended summer for Texas folk) was a good idea. The lavender dress squeezes my middle so tight that love handles are clearly visible on my sides. At least my boobs look great, barely restrained from the low neckline. But my face is pink, from drinking or pining over one half of the happy couple, who’s to say. I manage to finger-comb my hair into something more manageable, finally taking out the bobby pins and pulling it to one side with the chongo on my wrist. A low ponytail will have to do.
Once I’m outside, a blond head catches my eye. Theo’s height gives him away. He’s pacing the length of the building’s entrance, the moonlight illuminating his large silhouette. His long legs carry him back and forth between the white stone pillars in front of the building I just exited. I consider greeting him with a hello or a quick wave, but he’s not even looking in my direction. In fact, his agitated gait almost makes me hesitate to get anywhere near him.
His hands are fists in his hair, mouth moving with words I can’t hear. His cheeks are flushed—from pacing or drinking I’m not sure. No one else is around, which seems odd. I assume Christine would’ve made a move by now. She was just saying earlier how much she wanted to make a move on him. I’m about to ask if he’s all right when I catch a bit of what he’s saying to himself.
“… loved you ever since we were kids. You can’t go through with this wed—”
I halt in my tracks. He can’t possibly be…
Is he talking about Alice?
When he turns around, I quickly duck behind a pillar, clutching my chest with a hand. My heart is beating so fast, it can’t possibly be normal. This must be how heart attack victims feel right before they’re rushed into an ambulance. My legs can barely hold me upright, but I can’t just leave him like this.
There’s a lot I don’t know about Theo, but the same is also true of Alice. We grew distant when she and Ben started dating. What I do know is she grew up in Leon Valley next door to Ben and Theo. From what I’ve observed, she seemed close with Theo the few times he’s come down to visit, but I always assumed it was the kind of closeness born from being neighbors. The same kind of closeness she had with Ben, before their feelings grew into something more.
I shut my eyes as Theo goes on. I stay put, hiding as I listen in on his conversation with himself.
“And I know, okay? I know that I shouldn’t do this to you, Alice,” he says. I’m not sure how much he’s had to drink, but he sounds remarkably sober. “But the what-ifs have been haunting me for years, and once and for all, I have to know if you’ve ever felt the same about me. If somewhere down the line, I had a chance with you and missed it.”
I hold my eyelids closed past the tears threatening to burst free. Goddammit. How many times have I spent wide awake at night, wondering the same exact thing about his brother? There’s nothing I can do about it now, and there hasn’t been for a really long time. Theo has to know that, too.
“I know. Believe me, okay, I know that I must be the biggest asshole on the planet to do this at your engagement party.” His voice is a low rumble slowly gaining momentum. “But I… I have to… I have to know.”
Theo walks past me with a stumble in his step, his body tilting to one side as he strides forward. Okay, maybe he’s not that sober after all. I wait until he’s a foot away before calling out his name. He’s slow to stop, but when he does, his shoulders tense. He turns his head over his shoulder so fast, I’m surprised he doesn’t give himself whiplash. He’s unable to disguise the shock in his widened eyes. I step forward cautiously, like I’m approaching a startled deer in headlights.
“How… how long—” He cuts himself off, scrubbing both hands down his face. “Marcela.”
“Theo.” One step closer and we’re half a foot apart, eye to eye. Any closer, and I’ll be craning my neck just to look him in the eyes. “You can’t. You know you can’t do this.”
When he takes his hands away from his face, there’s a bright sheen to his eyes. I know how he feels. So much more than I’d like to. That’s how I know I have to stop him. He turns his head back and forth, looking for any sign of more eavesdroppers, but it’s just me. I don’t know how long that’s been true, though. How could he be so stupid to rehearse that big speech of his out in the open, where anyone could hear him?
“You don’t understand.” He shakes his head, backing away from me.
“Oh no.” I throw my body in front of him before he has the
chance to get away. The side of my head hits him square in
the chest, and we both let out an oof as we stumble backward. The scent of whiskey mixes with his cologne, a startlingly intoxicating combination that makes my head spin. Well, that answers the question of how much he’s had to drink tonight. I take a few steps back, shaking my head to clear it before facing him.
“Theo, you can’t. You’re drunk and bound to regret everything in the morning. Come on.”
I grab him by the arm to drag him away from the party, but he doesn’t move an inch. Of course. I forgot who I was trying to exert physical force on. His bicep is hard and muscular, warm through the fabric of his white dress shirt. I almost want to keep groping his arm before I remember the urgency of the situation we’re in and force myself to focus. Oddly, he’s smiling that amused smile again from when I drove over a speed bump and hit his head. I can use that. If my weird antics amuse him, maybe I can distract him from breaking up his brother’s relationship.
“Come on, big guy. I’ll call you an Uber.” I attempt to push him back, which proves yet again to be futile.
“I don’t need one.” He steps forward as if to walk past me, but I move with him, blocking his path again. This time I splay my hands on his chest, and holy shit. But I don’t have time to marvel at the feel of his hard abdominal muscles beneath my hands. I quickly remove my hands, before I start getting creepy, although I keep them up high enough to block him from passing me. He heaves a frustrated sigh, no longer amused.
“I think you do,” I tell him, pushing up to my tiptoes to whisper in his ear. My head doesn’t even come close to his, even in heels, so I end up whispering into his neck. My hand rests at the top of his chest to keep me upright. He shivers under my touch, a low buzz beneath my fingertips.
“Think about what you’re about to do. Really think about it,” I implore him. “This is your brother’s engagement party. He’ll never forgive you for trying to steal Alice away, no matter the outcome.”
That seems to sober him for the moment. He looks past me toward the crowd. I turn around to do the same, and that’s when I notice the eyes on us. The number of heads turning our way. The covert whispers. Fucking shit, we have to get out of here now.
“How many people know?” I ask under my breath.
He looks back down at me. There’s an unreadable quality to his expression. “Just you.”
“Are you sure?” I grip his sculpted arm, not daring to let myself become distracted as I meet his dark eyes seriously. “No one else walked past you tonight?”
“No.” He starts to shake his head, but then hesitates mid-shake. “Not that I know of, at least…”
“Fuck.” I push my hair back from my face. When I drag him backward this time, he gives under my touch and follows after me. “Come on. We have to leave before—” Before we make any more trouble.
Because I’m afraid of how tempting the thought in the back of my brain is. Let him confess. Help Ben pick up the pieces, if it comes to it. I’m so close to the moment I’ve dreamed of for years.
But I can’t be that person. I just can’t.
Not anymore. Theo Young is my reminder.